


Waffles

by Zigster



Series: Waffles, Wolfsbane, and Whatever Else Suits My Whimsy [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Daddy!Derek, Derek being adorable, M/M, Other, Pack Feels, Possessive!Derek, also, but he tries, derek attempts to cook, derek is a sour wolf, give him credit, it's fall, no really, oblivious!Stiles, pumpkin waffles, shut up it can happen, stiles takes over, sunday morning, this is so original you guys will be amazed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:19:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigster/pseuds/Zigster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek makes breakfast for the pack because I want him to. Stiles helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. These ficlets are here to entertain me. They also don't belong to the same universe, so don't be confused that Stiles and Derek are suddenly not an established couple.

Stiles specifically remembers Derek saying "pack only" the other night when he talked about Sunday morning breakfast, and how sharing meals is supposed to help establish pack bonds. 

Stiles understands. He can take a hint. Pack means Issac and Erica and Boyd. He's not too sure on the inclusion of Scott or Jackson, but considering that they're werewolves he's leaning towards them having a standing invitation to the Hale homestead. He, not being a werewolf, therefore means only by association with Scott is he allowed to waltz on over to Derek's house. And, since Scott is currently being a stubborn dick and avoiding Derek, Stiles assumes he's not invited to the pancake party. 

Which is why he's beyond startled by the ringing of his phone at eight in the morning on Sunday. Derek's name greets him as he stares at the screen of the phone, wondering what insane person would be calling him this early. 

"What the hell, Hale?" 

"Stiles." 

"Yes, you've reached Stiles. Who's currently sleeping! Is anything sacred to you?" 

"Get here now." 

"Oh sure. Let me just step into the Tardis, and I'll be there in a jiffy." 

Stiles hears a growl that quickly erupts into a roar before it's muffled and the phone starts making weird noises like it's being wrestled out of Derek's hand. Erica's voice comes through the receiver next. 

"Stiles, why don't you get your skinny ass over here so we can start breakfast? Now." 

Her tone is sweet and suggestive, all the while seeping with the underlying threat of violence. Stiles wonders how she perfected that skill so quickly. It must be a werewolf thing. 

"Stiles!"

"What?" 

"You didn't answer." 

"Dude. Derek said it was a pack thing. I'm not pack, Erica. Why on earth are all your panties in a twist about this?" 

Erica is silent on the other end before he hears her giggle. Yes, Erica is giggling at him. 

"Feeling left out here." 

"You're precious, Stiles. Really." There's a growl in the background and Erica's voice sobers as she clears her throat, suddenly all business. "Seriously, Stiles. Get here." 

She hangs up and Stiles is left to stare at his wall with his mouth open. "How is this my life?" 

* 

Stiles pulls up in front of the Hale house with a to-go cup of coffee and a jar of syrup. 

He always figures you can never have enough syrup, and when you're invited to someone's house (no matter how rudely the invitation was delivered) you bring something. Stiles brought syrup. When he reaches the front porch and Erica wrenches open the door, her eyes going straight to the jar in his hands with what looks to be animalistic glee, he figures he did the right thing. 

"My hero!" Erica grabs the jar and Stiles and drags them inside at the same time. She then continues to manhandle him until his coat is off, his to-go cup is disposed of and a fresh mug is placed in his hand, and he's seated at the table with Issac, Boyd, a sullen Jackson, and a bored looking Lydia. 

"Hi." He waves awkwardly at them all. 

They all just nod back with stiff shoulders. Stiles doesn't have to be a werewolf with spidey senses to feel the massive amounts of tension radiating through the room. The violent sounds of Derek in the kitchen are also hard to miss. 

"Sooo," he breathes out, trying to break the ice. "Derek's in a good mood." 

A growl greets him at the jab and he flinches despite himself. He looks over at Erica and bugs out his eyes with a "what the hell?" face and she just shakes her head. There's an open seat next to him at the table but she, instead, plops into Issac's lap and starts petting his hair. It seems to soothe him and he visibly relaxes. 

Stiles let's two more minutes of tense, pressure-filled insanity go by before he slaps his hands on the table and shoves his chair back. 

"Alright. This is ridiculous." 

He stalks off to the kitchen with his head high, knowing full well that this may be a suicide mission but there's a hungry pack to feed and Derek's antics do not sound conducive to cooking in anyway. He's going to have to take the batter into his own hands . . . so to speak. 

The second he steps through the kitchen door, however, he's hauled up by his shirt collar and slammed back into the fridge, a feral looking Derek in his face. 

"'Morning." 

Derek just glares, releases him, and in what looks to be an extreme amount of self control, steps back several feet. 

"Uhh, I came to help?" 

Derek folds his arms. Stiles feels that he's winning their one-sided conversation, so he nods and walks over to the counter were a bag of flour and other baking paraphernalia are sitting. The cans of pureed pumpkin catch him off guard. 

He holds one up. "Care to explain?" he asks, Derek. 

"It's fall." 

Stiles waits, but that seems to be the only answer he's getting, so he shrugs and picks up the can opener. Looks like pumpkin waffles are on the menu. 

Derek walks around behind him and sets two waffle makers on the counter. He plugs them in to let them warm, then moves to the carton of eggs waiting nearby, handing Stiles one at a time while accepting back the empty shells to toss. Despite his sour expression and lack of verbal . . . anything, Stiles finds that working with Derek in the kitchen is somewhat easy. The only snag comes when Stiles tries to add cinnamon to the maple syrup heating on the stove top. 

"What? Why are you growling? It'll taste awesome." 

"I don't like fancy syrup." 

"It's just cinnamon." 

"It's fancy." 

Stiles sighs and puts down the spice before returning to the waffle iron and plopping on more batter. 

Ten minutes later, Stiles and Derek reappear from the kitchen with two mountains of pumpkin spice waffles and plain ol', non-fancy maple syrup. Stiles can actually see the pack starting to salivate at the sight, which is slightly disturbing. He quickly places the tray of waffles down and steps back to let the literal wolves descend. To his shock, Derek smacks all their hands away. 

"No!" 

He takes the plate that was sitting in front of Stiles' seat and loads it high with waffles and drizzles a good amount of syrup on top. Stiles figures he's serving himself, since he's the Alpha and Alphas eat first, which is why he's dumbfounded when Derek hands him the plate. 

Stiles just stares at it, confused. Accepting food from an Alpha is definitely a _thing_. Having an Alpha give you food first before himself or any of his betas is a _huge thing._ What the hell is going on? 

"Uhh . . . thank you?" 

Derek nods and nudges the plate further into Stiles hands. He accepts it and sits down, taking in the jealous and knowing faces of the wolves around him. 

"Eat."

The command is for Stiles. No one else. He quickly obliges, wanting to move the awkward turtle on to the next table, and gulps down a bite. His swallow of food seems to be a single to the betas since the second his Adam's Apple bobs back up, they dive for the waffles, coming from all directions. Derek stands at the head of the table with his arms folded, watching his pack with a small smirk on his face as they indulge in their breakfasts, but he's mostly staring at Stiles, and the attention is unsettling. 

Derek wanders back into the kitchen as they eat and Stiles stops, mid-chew to wonder why. 

"Where's he going?" 

"To eat." Boyd says, as if it were obvious. 

"Yeah, but, why not out here?" 

Erica perks up and grins at him. "He likes to eat alone." 

For some reason, this bothers Stiles a great deal and for the second time, stands from the table and stalks into the kitchen to confront Derek. The table goes silent as the kitchen door swings closed behind him. 

"Dude, you make this huge deal about pack bonding and me being here, of all people, and then you just walk away to eat in here alone like some sad, goth kid at recess? Seriously?" 

Derek is hunched over a plate of eggs, his arm curled possessively around his breakfast. He looks up when Stiles speaks, one cheek puffed out with food. He doesn't answer, just raises an eyebrow. 

"I am calling bullshit on this pack bonding. You can't bond if you're in here brooding and separated from your pack. So come on," he gestures with his hand for Derek to join him, "let's go." 

"Go?" 

"Out there! Where the people are." Stiles sighs. "Don't make me sing the Little Mermaid to get my point across." 

Derek doesn't budge, just kind of glowers at Stiles over his breakfast. Stiles, for one, has had enough glowering and glaring and brooding and attractive eyebrow raises for one lifetime. So, instead of just walking away like he normally would, he takes Derek by the shirt and drags him out through the door, sits him down at the head of the table, and makes him a plate of food. 

"Take it," he says, holding the waffles in front of him. 

"Ooo yes, take it, Derek." Erica is literally on the edge of her seat, watching the proceedings with a tad too much interest. Stiles will worry about what that means later, right now, he needs to get Derek to take the god dammed food. 

Derek gives Erica a stern warning with his eyes but accepts the plate from Stiles. He waits till Stiles is seated next to him to cut into the waffles, and after he takes his first bite, the rest of the table resumes their eating. 

A full minute passes in companionable silence before Issac blurts to Stiles, "So, should we call you Mom, now?" 

 

*

End


End file.
